Catch On Quick
by jasonjs
Summary: "It vas the World Cup qualifier," said Krum with finality. "That is ven I said to myself, for the first time, 'OK, Viktor, you are good. Potter is the best.'" "And at that point, Mr. Krum, did you have any idea-" "Any idea that by best, I meant best ever?" The Blugarian smiled thinly. "Of course. I am Viktor Krum. To beat me, you must be the best."
1. Introductions

**A/N: **This story was largely inspired by the many wonderful Quidditch-related works of TheEndless7. Though I believe much of Harry's personality lends itself to a career as an Auror, I've always loved takes of him as a professional Seeker. I don't hesitate to picture him as a star, and few stories in professional sports are as intriguing as those of its stars. I've often wondered what it's like to _become _a sports star, because, after all, there are no clearly demarcated lines between "Good", "Great", and "Legendary". Harry in Quidditch creates a very unique situation, as in many respects, he's already a national hero, even as he tries to make a name for himself on the pitch. Hopefully I paint a convincing, entertaining picture of what that may look like.

**Catch On Quick**

Harry knew he had been running too hard when he found himself reminiscing wistfully about the search for the horcruxes, thinking how nice it had been to laze about for hours on end. He shook himself forcibly, letting drops of sweat fly off his body to pepper the spongy surface of the track.

It had been one of his favorite areas when he'd first arrived at the team facility after being drafted. Hemmed in by towering trees, the track was at the very edge of the compound. Harry had yearned early on for solitude, and this place seemed to suit his needs. When they weren't using the spell-o-turf for morning runs and team workouts, it was otherwise empty. Professional Quidditch players, and those that worked with them, did not seem to be overly fond of off-broom exercise.

Shortly into day one of optional workouts, Harry was beginning to understand why. Four miles into their warm up, and the Boy Who Lived was on the verge of losing his breakfast.

"Tired already, eh?" grinned Ashleigh Bourne, newly signed Seeker from Australia. This was whom Harry would compete with for a spot on the First Team. He was annoyingly dry, a rather slick Harry noted. "Newbie."

Though Ashleigh, like Harry, was freshly acquired, he'd played for a number of years in an Australian League. Harry himself was fresh off his last year in Hogwarts, and an admittedly stellar seventh year campaign.

"At least you're working out now, rather than the start of real training camp," consoled Diana Akermann. The other assembled players echoed her sentiments. She was a Beater, Harry remembered, a returning player. In his limited interactions with her, she'd been helpful.

"Ah, I remember my first training camp," reminisced Katie Bell fondly. "I don't think I've ever been so sick." Several players whose names Harry had yet to learn snickered at her remarks. Katie was one of two returning Chasers, and a familiar face he was grateful for.

"Really?" Harry managed huffily, straining to remain upright through the burning stitch in his side. He was swift on his feet, but struggled with the unfamiliar routine of endurance running.

"Really," confirmed Katie. "It was the worst. Of course, I wasn't in any kind of shape. Hadn't practiced in a month, really…"

Diana scoffed. "Serves you right, then. Reminds me of Danny's first season." She jerked her chin at a short, burly man: her fellow Beater Danny McDonnell. He frowned petulantly. "Don't remind me."

"I'm sure you'll have a better time than I did, Harry," assured Katie, though her tone was less certain than her words.

"He'll be alright," Ashleigh confirmed confidently. "He's young and springy; he'll bounce back fast."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, tell that to my body."

"I think you look pretty bendy, myself," Katie said honestly. "To be fair, though, I did see you touch your knuckles to your elbow when Lockhart vanished your bones."

Nearly everyone laughed; Ash especially was intrigued. He demanded a full recounting at a later date, a not unpopular idea.

"Harry's interesting life aside," Diana said mildly, redirecting the conversation away from the blushing Seeker. "All this talk of bending reminds me that we should be stretching. Katie, care to lead?"

"Sure," piped up the Chaser quickly, and less than a minute later the players were all circled around her, miming her actions in the middle. Harry hunched his back as low as it would go, grimacing at the tight unpleasantness.

It would be worth it in the end, he reminded himself. Many nights in the Hospital Wing and circumstances besides had given Harry a distinct dislike for waking up injured. Preparation, specifically off-season preparation, was his most effective means of avoiding that kind of infirmity this upcoming season.

Harry winced as Katie bent them into a new stretch. Of course, he amended internally, that didn't mean he had to like it,.

Forty-five minutes later, still gasping for breath from their latest circuit, Harry observed the others who had come, as he had, to the optional summer workouts.

First off, there were the Chasers. Katie was one of two returning starters, the other being indisposed for an unknown reason. That left one spot open out of three, and to be perfectly honest, Harry didn't get the impression they had great options there. His assessment of the remaining Chaser talent classified them as reservists at best. Hopefully one of them would prove him wrong.

Next, there were the Beaters. It's important to understand that, although both Diana Akermann and Daniel McDonnell were firmly entrenched in the starting lineup, their existing contracts were set to expire at season's end. Daniel was hoping to stay, but Diana had been quite vocal about testing the free agency waters. This made the reserve spot for Beaters truly valuable; it was basically a shot at a starting gig next season. As such, there were several worthy players in line for the opening, and all seemed quite competent. This part of the team did not worry him.

Then, there was the Keeper. Harry had yet to meet him, but he'd _heard_ more than enough. Robbin Stern, after all, was something of a local hero. He'd played at Hogwarts back before Charley's days and been here for eighteen seasons. Under his unyielding leadership and relentless goalkeeping, the Cannons enjoyed one of their two total winning seasons. Over the years, he'd lost at least half a broomstick in speed, but more than made up for it with his awareness. His play recognition was off the charts, and his backup seemed competent enough in limited action. According to Ron, Chudley's Keeper situation was as solid as any team in the league. Harry was inclined to agree.

Finally, there was Harry's own position, the ever-important Seeker. After last year's historically bad showing from Turley Tinsley, the First Team Seeker spot was entirely up for grabs. After an overhaul of the personnel department, Harry and Ash had been brought in to compete for the vacant position. Loser would be relegated to the Reserves and scout team: a less exciting, lesser-compensated position. It was the difference between a legitimate shot, and indeterminate Quidditch purgatory.

There was a lot at stake; Harry tried not to think about it.

Shaken out of his reverie by a loud, "Breaks over, kiddos!" Harry shared a rueful grimace with someone nearby, one of the Chasers trying out for a Reserve spot. She was about his age, short and slim and, he noted belatedly, rather easy on the eyes as well.

"Already?" he muttered disbelievingly. "I'm fixed to pass out."

She grinned at him. He liked her smile. "Don't think I'll carry you the rest of the way."

Prior to the first lap, he managed a "My name's Harry". He heard her say something to the effect of, "Mine's Ari." But then, they'd just started running, and he couldn't be sure.

By the time they were on the second lap, Harry had made the executive decision to give up talking in order to focus on keeping a reasonably steady line. The Chaser, whose name Harry was relatively sure was Ari, was in far better shape than he. Her pace was steady through all eight laps, and she laughed out loud at Harry's wondering expression when they finally finished.

"It really wasn't that bad," she said to him, taking short, hard breaths into her nose and expelling them through her mouth. "The first few weeks of conditioning are always the worst. Once you establish a baseline," she shrugged," it's peaches and cream."

From his spot on the ground, Harry managed a terse groan.

Grinning cheekily, Ari patted him on the knee. "That's the spirit."

"Aren't you looking lovely?" Ash called over, grinning amusedly at the prone former Gryffindor.

Harry groaned again, waving for him to go way.

"Come on by? Why, don't mind if I do mate." Sauntering down, the Australian Seeker sat on his haunches next to Harry. After a moment, he rapped him sharply on the legs: "Straighten those out, buddy, get a good stretch in. Trust me, you'll thank me in the morning."

"And drink plenty of water," offered Ari helpfully. "Flush out the excess lactic acid from your system."

"Yep, and what she said, too," confirmed Ash brightly as he straightened.

"Lots of good food helps, too. Nutritious dinners, light breakfast and lunch, that whole deal. None of that Cauldron Cake junk."

Ash nodded once more. "Too bad, that; they're rather tasty." His tone was regretful.

"I don't care for them," sniffed Ari, and Harry managed enough oxygen to offer: "Are you mad? They're wonderful!"

"That they are," grinned Ash. Then he caught a whiff off his practice jersey, and his face twisted up in disgust. "But that is not. Whew! Well, I smell absolutely awful. If you'll excuse me, I think I have a rather pressing engagement with the shower. Lovely chat, though. Later." With that farewell, he turned to walk away, already stripping off his shirt.

"Oy, Ashleigh! Same time, same place, tomorrow!" called Diana. The Australian threw a thumbs up without looking back, confirming he'd heard.

"That goes for the rest of you, as well," she told the assembled athletes, repeating the announcement. Everyone gave an acquiescent nod. By now Harry was able to sit up, and finally, with a hand from his new Chaser friend, stand. As they left, Katie broke off a conversation with the Beaters to give him a pleasant goodbye. Harry returned it, earning nods from Diana and Daniel as well. They began the trek back to the locker room together, chatting amicably.

"America? Really?" Harry had asked her in amazement upon learning where she was from.

"Absolutely," Ari had nodded proudly. "Muggle school up through elementary, then private school at an all-magic institution."

"Where in the States?" asked Harry curiously. He'd met precious few people from that part of the globe.

"The West Coast," she chewed her lip for a moment, "in California. Outside of San Francisco."

"I didn't know they played Quidditch in the States," Harry mused, surprised.

"Well, they do," replied Ari rather testily. "And they're pretty good, too."

"How'd they do in the last World Cup?"

She colored. "We had a crap pool and a load of players out with injury, and even then we made it to the final sixteen. The team's core talent is young and strong," the Californian intoned stubbornly. They felt like words she'd said numerous times before.

"I'm sure they did," chuckled Harry. Ari scowled, so he held up his hands, placating. "It's not like England did any better. All that talent, and we couldn't make it out of the Group Stage…"

Her face softened. "It's not their fault, really. The Bulgarians won the whole shebang, and Colombia's always a tough out."

"There's that," agreed Harry conversationally, nodding his head, "and there's the fact that England's Seeker is a spectacular heap of rubbish."

Ari laughed. "He's not _too_ bad."

"Well, he was in Buda Pest in 2000," maintained the former Gryffindor staunchly.

"I suppose you would know," replied Ari lightly.

"I would and I do," Harry confirmed. There came a long beat of companionable silence. Both took in the muted browns and neon orange highlights that colored the buildings. For such a crap club, mused Harry, their facilities weren't all that bad.

"You wanna know something?" Ari began suddenly, just a hint of self-consciousness coloring her voice.

"Sure," Harry said, curious.

"I wanna play Chaser for America," she admitted softly. "You know that maxim? 'For Club and Country'?"

He nodded. It was all over the tube and splashed in advertisements in Quidditch Weekly and Which Broomstick Monthly.

"I _love_ that. I want to live it. And," she lifted her chin confidently, "I think, with enough hard work, I can do it."

Harry gave her an appraising look. Saw her compact shoulders, natural balance, self-assured walk. It seemed like an odd thing for her to have told him, to be perfectly honest, but he heard the honest passion in her voice. "Well, I haven't seen you play, but I wouldn't be surprised if you did."

They continued in silence for a few moments as Harry collected his thoughts. "You know," he said after a while, "I think I'd like to play for England too. I mean, er, if I could, I definitely would."

He looked a little uncomfortable at making such bold pronouncements. Arianna just looked at him curiously, took in his lithe frame, restless hands, and nimble fingers. In a near echo of his own words, she slyly replied: "Well, I haven't seen you play yet either, but I'm sure you could, too."

That earned her a modest smile. They parted ways at the locker room entrance, where Harry showered and changed before Apparating to a meeting with his agent. He waved farewell to the locker room attendant as he left, grateful press days didn't start for some time.

All in all, it'd been a pretty swell first day on the job. At the very least, he'd made a friend. His last thought, before he felt his body compressed and contorted through an invisible tube, was that Hermione would be pleased: she was a big believer in team unity.

"You met Diana Akermann and Daniel McDonnell?!" were the first words out of Harry's best friend and agent's mouth. They sat in a cramped, one-room office Ron had managed to secure several months earlier. "Any idea which way Akermann's leaning? Word is she's on her way out next season."

Harry gave the redhead a scathing look. "I did, they're perfectly pleasant, and she didn't say so I've no idea. _I'm_ fine by the way, thanks for all your concern-"

"Okay, sorry!" Ron held up his hands palms out and leaned back in his chair. "But you can't blame me, not entirely! You know how I am about the Cannons. Probably pass out at your first game when I see you on the field, to be perfectly honest…" He seemed grimly resigned to the prospect.

"Ron…"

"Oh, alright, just hold on a tick!" Ron reached into his desk, pulling out a bulging binder. He Vanished the clutter in front of him, setting down the book with a large _thump_ and a good deal of dust. "Now, you said the other Seeker's name was Ashleigh?"

"Ashleigh Bourne," offered Harry helpfully. "From Australia. Said he played in a few leagues there."

"Yeah, yeah he did," Ron confirmed distractedly, now scanning through his notes to see what he had on the player. "Let's see… Alright, let me give you a rough bio, then we'll talk about what this means for you."

"Ashleigh Bourne," read the Weasley. "Perth native, two seasons experience in Australian Premier League. Thirty-two games played, twenty started, fifteen catches. Scouts like his larger than average build combined with decent broom-handling and solid straightaway speed."

He waited for Harry to digest the information. The bespectacled boy looked a little concerned.

"So, yeah, that's him," Ron quipped easily, shutting his binder with a snap. "Shouldn't be too much of a problem, eh?"

Harry's eyes were uncertain. "Fifteen out of twenty, that's not too good, right?"

"Well, that's not exactly how those numbers go," explained Ron, quoting from memory now. "Four of those games he started at Chaser. Not bad at that, either, to be perfectly honest. But it means his numbers are fifteen out of sixteen."

"And that's pretty good?"

Ron's red head bobbed enthusiastically. "Oh, it's bloody amazing is what it is. I mean, it's the Australian league, but I always say it's not who you play, it's how you play…"

Seeing the blood start to drain from his friend's face, Ron adopted a more reassuring line of conversation. "Look, who cares, you're Harry bleeding Potter! They don't keep school statistics so much, but I'm sure you'd be off the charts. You've never even missed a Snitch!"

"Once," replied Harry automatically. "In our third year."

"Oh, bugger our third year, it was a madhouse," scoffed Ron. "Ruddy dementors running about the place and everything. That should've been a catch, and you know it! Listen, you'll be fine. More than fine."

Harry sighed, but eventually allowed himself a bit of a grin. "Maybe. Hey, listen, can you look up one other player?"

"Why?" asked Ron, confused. "I thought Bourne was the only other Seeker at camp?"

"No, no, he is," Harry assured him. "I just met someone else I wanted to know more about."

Ron was looking seriously concerned, until Harry told him the name: "Arianna Wan." At that point, his oldest friend's face split into a Cheshire-like grin.

"Oho!" He said, pointing a finger and snickering madly. "Oho!" Ron hurriedly searched through his binder, found the appropriate page, and studied what he found with great intensity. Every now and then, he'd peek back to Harry, giggling as he did so.

Harry watched him with long-suffering patience. He'd decided not to tell Ron about Arianna's odd confession, and if this was the price he had to pay, then so be it.

"Very impressive, Harry," Ron finally managed gleefully, clearly enjoying himself.

"Is it?" Harry asked dryly, receiving a meaningful nod in reply.

"Certainly more of a looker than Cho," Ron continued, bouncing his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry rolled his eyes, but definitely agreed with Ron on that. "Anything on what's she like on the pitch?"

Ron's expression changed. He looked impressed, in spite of himself, and a little embarrassed. "She's actually… pretty good. In fact, I'm surprised she's on the Cannons at all."

Huh. Well that was curious. But, one crisis at a time; raising an eyebrow, Harry queried his friend, "Then why do you look so displeased?"

"Honestly? Because I had no idea," Ron replied frankly. "You know me, Harry, I live and breathe the Cannons! But this girl… when they signed her, I didn't even bother doing a background check. I was just too tired that day."

He shook his head, whistling lowly. "I'm just mad at myself, I suppose. I take pride in being a fan, knowing my team; I feel like I failed, just a bit."

Harry stood up to lay a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Relax, mate. You do your best. If you were any more of a fan, your skin would be Chudley Citrus."

The Weasley boy chuckled. "I guess I do. And 'Mione wouldn't like that, would she?"

"No," said Harry, grinning. "I reckon she wouldn't."

Heaving a sigh, Ron roused himself, grabbing his cloak from its hanging place on the wall. "Right, well, if that's all-?"

Harry nodded. It was.

"Right," repeated Ron, giving his office one last visual sweep. Satisfied, he turned his attention to Harry. "I'm starved. Want to grab a bite? You're paying, of course."

Harry held the door open, gesturing Ron forward. "Of course."

"What's the deal with that Arianna bird, anyway?" Ron asked as the door swung shut behind them. They entered into a dusty hallway they could depart from.

"I don't know," answered Harry honestly, feigning interest in the hall's floral wallpaper. "Just curious, I guess."

It was the truth. International players- especially talented ones with National ambitions- had, for good reason, tended to avoid the Cannons like the plague. Harry was sure Ari had the skills to catch on at another club, yet there she was with the worst team in league history. It was a choice in team most wouldn't make; Ari made the decision willingly. There was more to the story, Harry knew, but he supposed he'd just have to wait.

Ron, picking up on his friend's reluctance, let the subject drop. "Anyway... I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron, and we walk into Muggle London?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Nodding his head, Ron turned on his heel and disappeared with a _crack!_ Moments later, Harry experienced the now familiar yet ever uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through a tube as he turned on his heel and did the same.

**A/N:** So... how was that? Comments, questions, concerns, suggestions? I take all comers, and am grateful for them.

**Chudley Cannons Mid-Week Roster Update**

S- Harry Potter/Ashleigh Bourne

C- Katie Bell

C- Seamus McAdams (absent)

C- open

B- Diana Akermann

B- Daniel (Danny) McDonnell

K- Robbin Stern (non-participant)/ Per Hummels

Reserves: Ari Wan (C), Miles Bletchley (B), Per Hummels (K), Harry Potter/Ashleigh Bourne (S)


	2. Framework

Harry couldn't believe it was actually happening. After weeks of conditioning and more weeks of training camp, the contract finally allowed for in-team scrimmaging.

For the first time ever, Harry would experience Quidditch taken to a level higher than any he had yet to experience. Eventually, the crowds would be bigger, the brooms faster, the coaches smarter and the plays more complex. Of course, today was nothing compared to a regular season match. For now, though, the Boy-Who-Lived would settle for what he could get.

In-team scrimmage be damned, this was going to be tough. Still, after the past weeks of conditioning, Harry was confident he was at least physically ready for it. All the runs and drills with Ash, Ari and the rest the team had paid off; Harry was more in-shape than at any time in his life.

"Five minutes to get ready, then the presser, then it's out to the pitch!" Katie called from outside the room.

Harry quietly cursed, being reminded of the one glaring barrier between him and complete job satisfaction: reporters. They'd only had team access, limited at that, for the past few weeks, and he was already going spare.

"Don't be worried, mate, its just a scrimmage," offered Ashleigh, incorrectly pegging pre-game jitters as the cause of Harry's distress.

"It's not that," replied the former Gryffindor, absent-mindedly double-checking his pads. "It's the press. Bloody awful, they are." The Australian made a sympathetic sounding noise.

Hearing a scoff from several lockers down, Harry turned to find the team's other returning Chaser eyeing him with distaste. Apparently off-season surgery was responsible for his absence in training camp; Harry had yet to meet him, but opinions, where he could find them, seemed lukewarm at best. If this was anything to go by, the reasons were pretty obvious.

"Problem, Seamus?" asked Harry coolly.

"No," bit off the Chaser harshly, jerking on an armband with unnecessary force. "No problem here." His tone made it perfectly clear where he thought the problem was.

"Good." Harry's tone was mild, but he continued to stare levelly at the Chaser until McAdams averted his eyes and left the room. He didn't enjoy confrontation, but years' worth of experience with Malfoy had taught Harry several lessons for dealing with bullies. Chief among them involved not presenting an easy target.

Ash, at the very least, was impressed. "Remind me not to get on your bad side, eh?"

Favoring him with a small smile, Harry adjusted the last of his gear before grabbing his broom from the peg it hung on. "What bad side? I'm perfectly pleasant."

Collecting his broom as well, Ashleigh chortled. "I'm sure that's what you tell all your victims." He started towards the exit before pausing to look back at Harry expectantly.

Realizing he was being waited on, the former Gryffindor quickly double-checked his ensemble. Dressed in brilliantly orange robes, with Dragonskin bracers and gloves, Harry barely recognized himself. He looked…

Harry gulped.

He looked like a professional Quidditch player.

* * *

><p>"How was the rest of your presser?" asked a sympathetic Arianna over an hour later, when the team finally reunited on the pitch. Harry responded with a noncommittal grunt.<p>

There had been far more asked of him than anyone else, and it was clear he'd grown increasingly irritated. From the overly and incorrectly invasive:

"Have you received any special treatment?"

"Is it true you were offered shares in the team?"

"Does your troubled past interfere with locker room spirit?"

To the annoyingly innocuous:

"Is orange your favorite color?"

"Do you like Quidditch?"

"Are the showers satisfactory?"

Harry had had to deal with just about every question ever asked. He was yet to hear an engaging one, despite the multitude of faceless interviewers. The Cannon's own reporting crew, in particular, had been shockingly inept. Harry began avoiding their personnel after several disastrous exchanges.

"That bad?"

"I'll say," Ashleigh replied for Harry, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like it. I can't imagine what the first match'll be like…"

"I can," said Harry grimly. "Picture today, but in a bigger room."

"At least we get to play today," grinned Arianna, wisely changing the subject. Harry and Ash shared a look, then grinned back. In spite of the presser, or perhaps because of it, Harry, at least, was itching to get into the air.

"I can't wait," was his honest reply.

"Me neither," said Ari.

"Should be a good laugh, eh?"

The Chaser snorted. "Every time I see you fly, Bourne, I have a good laugh."

"Well, excuse me!" he declared in mock offense. "You're not exactly swooping with the swallows yourself!"

She giggled as Harry slowly repeated, "Swooping with the swallows?"

Ash waved a hand dismissively. "I have a gift for the English language. Given to me by Merlin himself."

"When did you misplace it?" asked Harry seriously, sending Ari into peals of laughter.

"Oh, ha ha," complained Ash, but he smiled just the same.

The three enjoyed a few minutes of companionable silence, lightly stretching in preparation for takeoff. Harry watched as the last few players dripped out of the locker room, their temporary teams distinguished by varying degrees of orange. Some wore the same near-blinding hue as Harry or Ari, with the rest garbed like Ash in a much more modest, creamy shade. They seemed about ready to start.

"So," Ash cleared his throat, suddenly looking a little nervous, "this is it, huh?"

"This is it," echoed Harry softly, already thinking ahead to the upcoming match.

"Listen, Harry," said the Australian, catching his eyes in a fierce stare. "Win or lose, my spot or yours, we stay mates. Agreed?" He extended his hand.

Harry felt a rush of affection for this man who should have been his rival. It had always been nice doing Seeker drills with Ash; Harry enjoyed the novelty of not being the only one. "Agreed," he said heartily, shaking the offered appendage.

"Good." They broke the handshake, each looking a little embarrassed and gazing at anything but each other.

Ari rolled her eyes. "Are you boys good to fly, or should I conjure up some tissues first?"

"Oh, go jump off a cliff," laughed Ash. "The real question is, are _you_ good to fly?"

"Me? I'm planning on earning my spot today," Arianna said casually, flicking nonexistent lint off her robes. "You two?"

"Thought about it," said Harry just as casually, examining the twigs on his broomstick. There was something comforting about playful banter, he realized, as he slipped effortlessly into the give and take of obnoxious bravado. "Decided I might as well. Why waste time, you know?"

"That would be nice," added Ash in the same indifferent tone, "but tell me, Potter, why the rush to play for the scout team? Because there's only one spot for Seeking on the Cannons, and that would be mine."

"Is that right?" asked Harry mildly. "Must've just opened up. Did I resign, then?"

"You will," the Australian puffed up his chest, "in _fear_."

Arcing an eyebrow, Harry made a scene pretending to whine and simper.

"I'd be scared to fly with him, Harry," Ari added seriously, indicating Ash with a jerked thumb. "It's like he's wearing blinders up there."

Harry broke then, and shook his head, laughing wonderingly. "You're both barmy, you know that?"

"_You're_ both barmy," said Arianna with finality. "And besides, the only reason that Seeker spot's open is because I prefer Chasing."

As both Seekers swiveled to face her, eyes predatory, Arianna instantly realized her error. Picking on them one at a time was all well and good, but she'd mistakenly isolated herself with that last comment. Now what was once an episode of good-natured ribbing between teammates had devolved into the eternal struggle between Chasers and Seekers.

"_Prefer_ Chasing? Yeah, that's what they all say."

"'Those who can't Seek, Chase.'"

"Right. And prefer chasing what, exactly? Cars on the road?"

"Guys out of your league?"

"The Ice Cream Truck when it flies down your block?"

"The backside of our broomsticks?"

"Or, you know, her own tail."

"Good one."

"Thanks. Listen, I'm not saying Chasers aren't as important as Seekers…"

"Oh, I wouldn't _dare_ to say that."

"… But there's three of you, and one of us."

"Exactly. You do the math."

Ari sighed. She'd had that coming, she supposed. After all, she'd sort of started it.

* * *

><p>The team had scarcely scrimmaged for fifteen minutes, but Harry thought he knew enough of Quidditch to make some fairly educated guesses.<p>

First off, Ari was _good_. She had sure hands, excellent aim, and startlingly sharp vision. In Harry's estimation, she was perhaps the best Chaser in the air. It looked like she would have no problem securing her desired spot.

Secondly, Ash was good too- just not as good as Harry. Once the match started, the two Seekers had immediately engaged each other in various feints, testing their competitor. Ash, Harry noted, was a decent enough flier, but lacked precision in his turns and maneuvers. It didn't take long for both of them to realize that, when it came down to it, those extra slivers of time would make all the difference.

Akermann and McDonnell aimed accurate bludgers, but weren't always on the same page. The former went after Chasers aggressively, while the latter was content to spread his aim around the pitch. This difference in styles, though complimentary, did lead to occasional gaps in coverage.

Robbin Stern, grizzled vet that he was, sat out this particular scrimmage. He brooded impressively on the side with a shockingly large broom, casting his hooded eyes from player to player. Harry still hadn't interacted with him, but the others seemed to be operating under a 'speak only when spoken to' kind of deal. Stern's backup, in the meantime, seemed passable.

All in all, Harry supposed their Beaters and Keepers would be fine, but the Chasers were a different story. While Katie and Ari had both flown well, McAdams so far looked off. There seemed to be some real chemistry issues, and he'd twice given away the Quaffle on errant passes. It was early yet, but that boded ill; it was difficult enough formulating any kind of effective gameplan, much less one without a reliable front line. Either McAdams rounded into form in a hurry, or the Cannons needed to start searching out other options.

He watched with some interest as his side recovered an errant shot. The Quaffle was passed into the reserve Keeper, a German boy named Per. Per scooped it over to an incensed Ari, who ignored an open McAdams and took the ball up the field herself.

Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ash's head turn so fast it had to have hurt. Without thinking, Harry guided his broom in the direction Ash had indicated, shooting down past him even as the Australian began to dive.

Already Harry could see the telltale glint of gold, weaving an erratic line less than a meter off the ground. He leaned closer to the broom, squeezing every bit of speed he could, even as he felt Ash's presence just off his tail.

Just then the Snitch reversed direction, making a dash for the far goalpost. Harry followed with an abrupt turn that strained his back, but he ignored the pain. The Snitch's new path drew Ash even with Harry, and the bigger Seeker wasted no time in body-checking his more slender opponent. Harry was shunted to the side before grimly guiding himself back on course.

Harry braced himself as he saw Ash swerve slightly for another body-check, but just as the other Seeker approached, Harry rolled. Cursing, the Australian missed entirely, shooting several meters past Harry before regaining control.

By the time he did, it was too late, as with a high looping turn and swift grab, Harry ended the first scrimmage of his professional career. The moment his fingers closed around the enchanted ball, a magically-projected whistle sounded audibly throughout the pitch.

Several teammates flew over to clap Harry on the shoulder as they all began to descend. The final score, showing up in the air in orange clusters of sparks, declared:

Orange 230, White 40

18:12

With a rueful smile, Ash made his way over to Harry as soon as they both landed. "Well, you're probably going to get the spot," he began with a sigh. "But it makes me feel better knowing you're miles better at Seeking than I am."

Unsure of what to say, all Harry could think of was to ask him was: "Does it?"

After a moment, Ash laughed. "Well, not really," he admitted with a shrug. "But that's Quidditch, eh?"

"I suppose it is," mumbled Harry, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

"Oh, lighten up," teased Ash good-naturedly, swinging his broom around to check the bristles. "If this is how you act after every win, I won't be able to stand you when you lose."

Shrugging, Harry did the same to his own broom, and was pleased to find everything in good order.

"Listen, mate," continued Ash, talking to Harry while he worked on a stubborn twig. "The thing about this game is you've gotta stay even-keel. With how exciting the regular season matches are…" he shook his dirty-blonde head in disbelief. "Well, you'll see. Anyway, my point is you don't want to get any more worked up than you need to. Least of all when you actually caught the Snitch."

Harry's face had slowly ripened in color, but couldn't refute the truth in Ash's words. "Right. I'll try to keep that in mind," he muttered through his embarrassment.

Just then Ari approached them, and Harry welcomed the distraction.

"Hey, Ari."

"Hi, Harry. Nice game," she returned.

"Fancy moves up there," said Ash by means of greeting. "Not bad for a yank."

She accepted Ash's words with equal grace. "Well, thanks. You looked great as well. I think I had a pretty good showing, considering it's our first game action. Not as good as Harry, of course."

Ari then gave the former Gryffindor an appraising look. After a moment, she said, "That was some really good Seeking up there, Harry."

"Thanks," he said, fighting the urge to avoid her gaze and return to his broom twigs.

She simply nodded and inspected her own broom, but Harry was sure her features had had a distinctly satisfied cast to them.

"Ignore him," said Ash, indicating Harry, who was sure he'd been the only one to see Ari's curious expression. "He's got no idea how to win gracefully."

"I can live with that," Ari grinned mysteriously, settling down to stretch on the grass. "As long as he wins."

It took Harry until after the fourth, and final, scrimmage of the day to confront her about his suspicions. With each successive win for their side, her satisfaction had grown more and more pronounced. After this last match, in which Harry had made a particularly acrobatic catch while spiraling downward, her smugness became so blatant he felt compelled to ask.

"Hey, Ari," he ventured after they'd gone through various stretches. "'What's got you in such a good mood?"

She arched a slender eyebrow at him. "You mean, besides the fact I had a great day and put myself on the short list to fill a spot?"

"Yeah." Harry grinned. "Besides that."

The Chaser stared at him for several seconds, then simply repeated her statement from earlier: "That was some really good Seeking up there, Harry."

"So you've said," he replied, still looking a bit lost. "Why is it so pleasing to you that I fly well?"

"Well, I guess it's not such a big deal if I tell you," relented Ari, much to Harry's consternation. "I mean, you kind of already know, in a way."

Now he was completely lost. "It has to do with my National team aspirations," offered Ari helpfully. When Harry's expression remained the same, she sighed, explaining, "Well, long story short, the better we do in the British League, the higher my chances of being called in for tryouts. The better you do, the better I do."

"So, it's not just your own ability, it's your team success?" When Ari nodded, Harry frowned. "Well, that can't be fair."

"Of course it's not fair," she answered, looking amused. "How could it be? I don't know how England does it, but we have a twelve-person committee overseeing thousands of potential candidates."

Eyes widening, Harry realized he'd never really considered how the National Team was chosen. Then he shrugged.

"Still, the Cannons?" Harry thought it over. "I mean, I'm flattered and all, but we're not that good. At least, not yet. Why come here for your showcase?"

"Don't think I'm here just for some ulterior motive!" she reassured him quickly. "I _am_ dedicated to this team. It's just that either way, it's in my best interest for it to be as successful as possible.

"But," she admitted matter-of factly, "to answer your question, I'm here with the Cannons because I think you're special. I'm a damn good Chaser, but I can't do it all on my own. I don't want to put you under any pressure, Harry, but I'll be honest: I think with you, this team is going places."

He looked at her in shock, green eyes open wide.

"She's right, mate," said Ash quietly. Harry turned to him with a start; he hadn't even heard him approach. "I've been playing Quidditch since I was a little kid, and I've never seen a flier like you."

Harry's face felt so red, he thought it might glow in the dark. "Thanks, you guys," he voiced awkwardly. "I'll do my best."

Unusually solemn, Ash only nodded, while Ari stared at him intensely. "See that you do," she said simply. They passed several moments in silence after that, but it wasn't uncomfortable. To Harry, at least, it felt like a pact had been made, a covenant formed.

He hadn't expected that from Ari, if he was being honest, nor from Ash. It was both inspiring and humbling, the belief they showed in him. Ari, in particular, had taken a huge risk on his behalf. Harry supposed only time would prove if he could be equal to their expectations, but he'd do his best in the meantime.

"So, er, how was McAdams?" Harry asked finally, coming out of himself and clearing his throat. "From what I saw, you guys were a bit, uh, out of sync."

Both Ari and Ash had been deep in thought as well, and snapped their faces to him when he spoke.

Arianna's expression instantly darkened. "McAdams," she scoffed disgustedly. "I've known that man three hours, and I already hate him. And you know what the worst part is? He isn't that good!"

"Looked awful," commented Harry frankly. "His vision is rubbish, and he's no great shakes at passing either."

"He's not," agreed Ari heartily. "And from what Katie said, he was even worse last year."

"He has a half-decent shot," threw in Ash, who had been listening with some interest. "I'd bet anything he's one of those players who scored a lot in school, but never bothered actually playing with the other Chasers."

"It's too bad our other reserves aren't better," said Harry slowly. "It'll be harder to win with McAdams in the lineup."

"You know what," said Ash suddenly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I'm not a bad Chaser myself…"

It took only moments before Ari was all over Ash, pushing and prodding him excitedly. "Are you serious? Why didn't you tell me before? You played how much?! You should try, I'm sure you'll be better than Seamus! I'll tell Diana and Katie; they'll be over the moon!"

She ran off, leaving Harry to smirk amusedly at the shocked look on his friend's face. Finally the Australian shrugged and shook his head in disbelief.

"Did that just happen?"

"Have fun," grinned Harry, as he watched an animated Ari point Ash out to Katie from the corner of his eye. "Because it just did."

The Australian quirked up an eyebrow. "_You_ have fun. You'll have to help me train, you know."

"Ahh, damn."

"Yeah, forgot about that, didn't you?"

"For a moment, I did, yeah."

Ari flounced back over, face flushed, breathing slightly hard. "Katie's all for it," she said excitedly, fighting to regain her breath. "Said we'll try it out in practice tomorrow."

All of a sudden they heard a roar of disbelieving anger. They looked over to find an unimpressed Katie standing, arms crossed, in front of Seamus, who looked absolutely apoplectic. "To HIM?!" he was yelling, gesturing wildly at Ash. "He's not even a Chaser!"

Averting their eyes from the scene, all three were fighting smirks as they exchanged raised eyebrows.

"What's up with Seamus?" asked Harry in mock-ignorance. "Anything we can do, you think?"

Ari lost it at that last comment, falling to her side and snorting occasionally while she giggled. Ash looked between the two of them, a smile playing at his lips.

"Well," he said finally, glancing back at the still-inconsolable McAdams, "even if this doesn't work out, I can't say it wasn't worth it."

**A/N: **So there! A more solidified starting lineup, and some real Quidditch (kind of)! I'm trying to speed through the offseason a bit, so we can get to the juice and drama of real competition. For now, though, with the setting and important characters sort of established, I'm going to spend a little time fleshing everything out. Also going to do my best to incorporate a preseason game with another team in the upcoming chapter. But, again, I'm eager to here any and all opinions on this.

**Chudley Cannons Mid-Week Roster Update**

S- Harry Potter

C- Katie Bell

C- Arianna Wan

C- Ashleigh Bourne

B- Diana Akermann

B- Daniel (Danny) McDonnell

K- Robbin Stern (non-participant)/ Per Hummels

Reserves: Seamus McAdams (C), Miles Bletchley (B), Per Hummels (K), Ashleigh Bourne (S)


End file.
